


The First Time Scott Ryder Masturbated in Andromeda

by giantsequoia



Series: The First Time in Andromeda [1]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: M/M, aiborgs, wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 15:05:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10619445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giantsequoia/pseuds/giantsequoia
Summary: With a little help from his friendly local somatic AI, Scott gets rid of some tension and also some semen he brought with him across dark space.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Revised 10/06/2017

**Timeline** : _one hundred and twenty-seven days after Ark_ Hyperion _arrival in Heleus  
_**Location** : _aboard the_ Tempest _, in low Eos orbit_

Scott Ryder was many things: recon specialist, Pathfinder for Ark _Hyperion_ of the Andromeda Initiative, terrifyingly powerful biotic, possibly the saviour of many worlds. Also stressed, and intensely horny.

He _had_ a few things, too: a toned body, a big dick, a bigger ego, a solid crew, and a cool ship. Overwhelming responsibility on his shoulders. A pragmatic and coldly Vulcan-like public demeanour that had proven so impossible to fracture under stress that more than one of his crew was now entertaining private suspicions that he was a robot. At the back of his mind, a creeping terror of suffocation; at the front of it, with a sense of detachment, some concern that his emotional paralysis and apparent inability to open up to the slightest social opportunities would condemn him to loneliness for the rest of his life. And of course, a lot of tension in his neck and a raging hard-on.

Despite how stressed he was, Scott’s opinion of himself was high. It mainly concerned how smart and hard-working and adventurous he was, how lucky the Milky Way migrants were to have him, how gracefully he had accepted being forced into his father’s job untested, and how much he liked how his body looked. He had always been trim, but after over four months in Andromeda he was _ripped_ for a twenty-two year old human with no more than basic gene mods. It made sense when you considered the extreme amounts of exercise he did every day and then added his biotic metabolism and SAM on top of that. It felt good to be attractive; he was the face of the Milky Way galaxy to the natives of Andromeda, he _had_ to look good because of politics if for no other reason.

Scott’s ego wasn’t so big that he couldn’t acknowledge its presence and admit that he enjoyed his own body. Or maybe that meant it _was_ too big. Regardless, he liked what he saw when he looked at himself in the mirror, and what he imagined others saw when he imagined them looking at or imagining his body (which he did sometimes). He had given his shipmates opportunities to do so in reality – only when such chances had presented themselves, of course, not excessively. That wouldn’t have been reasonable when people were trying to do something like settle an entirely new galaxy. He only did it when it already sort of made sense for him not to be wearing a shirt, like walking around on the ship now and then.

Yet for all of the strutting and exploring and world-saving that he did on a regular basis, Scott hadn’t really managed any overtures of friendship with any of his team. Occasionally reveling in the chance to become a walking shirtless scene aside, going against his need to remain professional in most contexts was like trying to bend an iron bar; it just wasn’t going to happen without a lot more pressure and counterpressure added to the mix.

The one other living person that Scott felt close to within two point five million light-years, who also happened to be the singular person whom he knew (thanks for those grammar tips, SAM) would understand him better than anyone else, was his sister Sara. Sara was comatose on the _Hyperion_. She would have known what to say to balance him out, but without her Scott felt trapped by his own coping mechanisms.

So there was no one on the  _Tempest_  that Scott really felt like he could just relax and talk to and  _destress_  with during one of their rare bits of free time (like they had right now), let alone someone he could turn to for casual sex. In the Milky Way, his body and his looks had attracted more than enough attention from the sapient adult population of the galaxy to satisfy his urges whenever he had them. And thanks to the extranet, he hadn't ever needed to go out and expend any effort charming someone into his bed. All he'd had to do was post a picture of his body and cock along with an offer and a few words about what he was and wasn't willing to do, and the responses would pour in. At that point he could basically take his pick. He'd even met a few long-term fuck-buddies that way.

There would be no such luck in Andromeda, at least not for a long while yet. All of Scott’s one-time casual sex partners were far, far away and long, long ago, and every single person in Heleus had more important things to be working on than  _Grindr: Andromeda_.

Still, other people managed to hook up without using the extranet, so surely he could learn how to do it too. The problem was that he was still stuck at the beginning. Not even he could be innately prodigious at everything, and flirtation and the social graces had never been his strong suit. Scott told himself that he was working on it and that he would get there eventually, but in the back of his mind there was always that creeping fear that the solitude and independence that he thought protected him would in fact strangle him in the end.

Luckily, not having a partner didn’t mean sex couldn’t help him. Masturbating was something he ought to have made time for many weeks ago.

So it was that Scott was heading through the ship from the bridge to his quarters for a little bit of _Scott_ -time. The _Tempest_ was preparing to depart Eos for the Nexus, which would necessitate a few days at FTL. Scott had plenty of lab work to keep him occupied during those long hours, but for the first time in months it felt like he could put off whatever he had to do for a little while without it regressing immediately to catastrophe.

Scott wanted no distractions. He hadn’t consciously, wakefully experienced an orgasm since the night before he’d gone into cryo-sleep. He was going to rectify that situation, and it was going to be amazing, because his come-shots had always been gratifyingly impressive to watch even when he _hadn’t_ been saving himself up for months (a few nocturnal emissions notwithstanding). A good long wank was just what he needed to relieve both some tension and the uncooperatively huge erection that had snuck into his pants while he had been standing in front the galaxy map.

Scott was down the ladder from the bridge and turning into his quarters when it occurred to him that, as this was the first time he would be consciously masturbating in the Andromeda Galaxy, it would also mark the first time something else happened.

“Hey, SAM,” Scott said aloud, not bothering to subvocalize to their private channel since he was now in his quarters with the door closed. If someone else was somehow sneakily listening in on the Pathfinder’s privacy, well, they’d get the earful they were hoping for, and may it thrill them. “When you were with my dad, did he ever- well, what I mean to ask is, how complete is your experience of the range of sensations in the male human body?”

“Quite complete, Pathfinder,” SAM informed him delicately. “If you are referring specifically to sexuality, I am familiar with it.”

Scott enjoyed the way the word _sexuality_ rolled out of SAM’s posh synthetic accent. “And comfortable with it too, I hope?” he asked.

“As comfortable as I am with any other aspect of your experience,” SAM replied. “That is to say, yes. It is part of what I know.”

“Great. So... just to make extra sure, I’m going to be blunt,” Scott said, reaching behind him to pull his shirt over his head as he made for his bed. “You won’t mind if I masturbate?”

“No, Pathfinder,” SAM said with no detectable hesitation.

“Sure?” Scott asked as he sat down to unlace his boots and start pulling them off. “SAM, I like this partnership we have going on. You take care of a lot of important things for me. I like how powerful and flexible you make me with your neural profiles. And, well, with Sara comatose you’re pretty much the only friend I have in this whole galaxy. The last thing I want is to put you through any sort of non-consensual sexual experience.”

“That will not be a problem,” SAM said calmly. “Alec masturbated quite frequently; I am accustomed to it. Social protocols aside, I assure you that you have my consent to touch yourself however you like, short of self-harm, whenever you feel it is appropriate to do so.”

“Okay,” Scott said, a little nonplussed. “I did not specifically require that little tidbit about my dad’s wanking habits, but thank you for being so forthcoming and understanding.”

“Would you like me to remain silent during the process?” SAM asked him. “Of course, in the event that you sustain any injury, I can and will alert Dr. T’Perro.”

“I’m twenty-two years old, SAM, I know how to jack off without injuring myself,” Scott shot back, a little insulted. “You can talk or not however you like. Just don’t expect me to reply or be thinking about much besides getting myself off until I’m done.”

“Understood,” SAM said. “Enjoy yourself, Scott.”

The way SAM said his first name gave Scott another peculiar thrill. It was like being scratched somewhere along his spine that was _juuust_ right, somewhere he’d been itchy for so long he had never even realized it.

“Thanks. I will,” Scott replied. He finished with his boots and stood up to push his pants and underwear down to the floor. His cock sprang free eagerly, already more than half-hard. He stepped out of his pants and stretched luxuriantly, standing on the tips of his toes and reaching toward the ceiling of his quarters. He twisted in one direction and then the other to crack his spine, enjoying the sensation of crisp air all over his body. He reached around behind him to scratch and rub the parts of his back that he could reach.

Then he sat back down onto the bed and reclined, reaching down with one hand to get a handful of his balls. His other arm he arced over his head so that he could turn and rub his face against his bicep, sniffing the musky scent of his armpit. While he was rolling and caressing his balls in one hand, his other drifted down to his chest to tweak his nipples and rub his intercostal muscles. He took a few long, deep breaths, tuning out everything except the soft hum of the ship and the sensations of his body.

A minute later, Scott was fully and uncompromisingly erect. He was so hard it almost ached, so hard that his foreskin had pulled all the way back and he couldn’t re-cover any of the glans with it. He was hard enough that he _knew_ that anyone else who touched it, with the inside or outside of their body, would feel that it was like steel. Scott _loved_ it, because of how horny he had to be to get this hard, and because it made his cock as big as it could possibly get. And because he knew from experience that his orgasm would be spectacular.

So he stroked. And yet... he made frustratingly little progress. It _felt_ , but it didn’t feel _good_.

First Scott tried thinking about various people that he would have loved to fuck, had they been in his presence and willing. He had no trouble slipping into memories about some of his one-time fuck-buddies and the things he’d done with them.

He remembered sneaking into a vehicle bay on Arcturus Station one evening with asari tourist Reyla and bending her over a Mako while he drove his cock as deeply inside her as he could reach, arms wrapped around her soft, smooth body, her nervous system and his mingling in eddies of biotic corona.

He remembered spending hours at a time in an apartment on the Citadel being fucked into the next dimension by Adam, a hung black human C-Sec agent who had never tired of watching slender Scott Ryder’s stiff cock bob up and down as he bounced on Adam’s lap. Scott had never tired of it either, even when he hadn’t been “on top” and Adam had had him nailed to the bed or a wall with his cock.

He remembered watching his cock disappear balls-deep into the throat of Corporal Wheeler, a musclebound and yet so innocent-looking white guy who had filled in at Relay 202 for a blissful week while the usual omni-tool tech was on leave. Wheeler had surprised Scott with both his level of expertise at handling plus-sized dicks and the depths of his appetite for it. He had orally drained Scott’s balls twice a day for the entire duration of his stay, and never once seemed to desire any stimulation in return. Scott had been only too happy to oblige Wheeler’s lust; he had started that week filling Wheeler’s gullet with his usual massive loads and ended it producing barely a dribble when he came.

Scott had masturbated successfully to all of those memories before, back when they had been sharp and sensual. And in a way, they still ought to have been, for subjectively it had only been a few months since he had left the Milky Way – no more than six since he had seen Adam for the final time.

Yet in his mind loomed the immense, suffocating weight of six hundred years in dark space, like a mountain on a horizon hidden by cloud – invisible, but its presence palpable and impossible to forget. That wall of shadows made it hard for Scott to find _any_ pleasure in the memories beyond it, for his logical mind kept pointing out to him the fact that everyone he was thinking of was centuries dead and irrevocably gone from his reality.

Except for Reyla, perhaps, but she was... well, Scott had always preferred men, and mainly human men. Of course he knew that asari weren’t “women” _per se_ , but they were certainly female, and anyways he had really only made an exception for Reyla because of how into him she had been, and because he was intrigued by the possibilities of asari mind-meld sex. It had been a one-time thing, anyway, and he had been in it for the mind-melding, as good as the physical sex had been.

His dick wasn’t feeling good, and was even beginning to deflate a little. Scott locked down his wandering thoughts and switched tactics.

He thought of some of the people he’d seen so far in Andromeda, on Ark _Hyperion_ and the Nexus and the various settled worlds. People who _were_ still a part of his reality. He remembered a strapping repair tech he had seen working on one of the Nexus habitation decks, resplendent in a pair of tight pants with just the hint of some underwear waistband showing as he bent over to work on a console.

Scott pictured that man bending over in front of him instead, tight round ass laid bare and sliding up and down the shaft of his cock. He licked his lips, imagining burying his face between those glutes and digging in with his tongue.

He was fully hard again in no time, but he still wasn’t feeling much in the way of pleasure. More like _chafing_ , as if his cock was going to be sore later if he didn’t either lube himself up, smear his own spit all over his cock, or start actually enjoying himself enough to produce precome.

Unfortunately – as a quick but thorough search turned up – the Initiative team that had built and stocked the _Tempest_ apparently had not seen fit to stock any personal lubricant, at least not in the Pathfinder’s quarters. What idiot six hundred years ago hadn’t thought of _that_?

Scott groaned. Who else had he seen in this galaxy that he would enjoy getting into close physical contact with? Someone he had seen more of than a sliver of skin and an outline of an ass.

Gil, maybe, or Liam. Gil was _definitely_ into him, which was good, because they might eventually fuck, even though Scott didn’t like Gil very much. He knew that Liam wasn’t a possibility in real life, but he could still imagine the two (or three, counting Gil) of them in a situation that would plausibly lead to sex. Like... say, Liam walking in on Scott with Gil and finding himself inexplicably turned on and wanting to join in....

That line of thinking got Scott a little further. He rolled his head around, burying one half of his face in the pillow while he tweaked his left nipple and stroked his cock. He pictured Liam giving him _way_ better head than Liam probably ever could have even in ideal circumstances, while Gil spit-roasted Liam from behind.

Unfortunately, although he managed to get a little further out of ‘chafing’ territory and a little deeper into ‘pleasurable’, this fantasy eventually led his thoughts down another unwelcome path: one in which he wondered if fucking Liam’s throat _that_ savagely in his mind might be a slight indicator of some more deeply-buried tension than he had anticipated. Perhaps even digging at some of the flash-calcified hurt that Liam’s rejection of him had inspired.

Scott’s mind reeled _away_ from anything that looked even remotely like processing _those_ feelings, casting about instead for a new idea to focus on.

Many long minutes of unsatisfying stimulation later, Scott sighed and stopped what he was doing. He lay sprawled on his bed, totally naked, staring out at the tunnel of bent light slipping past the ship as it travelled at FTL.

He looked down at himself, taking inventory. Tightly muscled chest shiny with sweat, rising and falling with his breath. Hard, nicely pointed nipples shadowed by a swirl of hair. Some absolutely _chiselled_ abs. Large, heavy balls. And an upward-curving, veiny, nine-inch masterpiece of a cock, as proudly erect as the _Tempest_ itself... with just the tiniest drop of precome on the end of it.

“Fuck,” Scott muttered. “ _Damn_ it.”

If anyone, literally _anyone_ (well, not Sara, and they would have to be sapient and of age) had walked into his quarters right at that moment and offered themselves to him, Scott would have said yes, because that was how horny he was. For once, _he_ was the one who needed help, rather than being the one constantly offering to fix everyone else’s problems.

Scott rolled his head around and did a quick, instinctual mental check-in with SAM to learn the time. He was surprised to learn that he had been lying here trying to come for only about twenty minutes; it had felt like longer.

 _Why_ couldn’t he get off? The process wasn’t that complicated, biologically speaking. Surely he’d worked his way through most of the plateau phase by now, but he didn’t feel close to coming. His cock hadn’t softened in the slightest since he’d stopped touching it, but bringing himself to climax right now seemed impossibly difficult. What he really, urgently craved was attention from _somebody else_. A mouth, an orifice, a hand that was not his own....

Maybe if he called Gil on a private channel and explained his situation, he could tempt the engineer into coming in here and having sex with him without having to beat him at poker first.

No, that was a bad idea. That was the lust talking. He absolutely should _not_ do that.

He _could_ do that, though; what was the worst that could happen? Well, Gil would say no, of course; cue embarrassment and humiliation. From what he knew of Gil, “Please come to Pathfinder’s quarters and let me nail you into the mattress” wasn’t likely to get him very far, at least not without a lot more time invested into the relationship. Gil would just be uncomfortable, and Scott wouldn’t get off. It was a bad idea.

Scott glanced over at his ear comm. But what if it _wasn’t?_

“Scott, perhaps I can help,” SAM said unexpectedly.

Scott jumped; he had quite forgotten that SAM was with him, as sometimes still happened during the longer periods in which his AI partner said nothing. Yet any shame or discomfort that Scott might have felt at sharing his body with an AI during such an utter failure of a jerk-off session was quickly encased in ice like any other feeling, and rushing in to replace it was already his usual blend of unflappable logic and scintillating wit.

“Appreciate the offer, SAM, but I’m not sure how you could,” Scott said. “At this point I wouldn’t turn down a blowjob from Kallo – well, that’s a lie, I might – but short of me going to SAM Node and grinding against your blue box, you don’t have any physical body parts to ‘help’ me with.”

“No, but I do have access to your memories, your senses, your hormones, and your circulatory and endocrine systems,” SAM pointed out reasonably. “I do not like to see you so tense and unable to relieve yourself, Scott. Alec often suffered from unrelieved stress as well, and I watched – I _felt_ – over the years how it damaged his body and shaped his very mind. I do not mean to devalue any part of human experience – I learn and grow from any input, even adversity and unfulfilled desire. However, for the sake of our mission and your health, perhaps I could help you in the same way I sometimes helped Alec.”

“How’s that?” Scott asked curiously.

“I can show you, but I’d prefer to have your permission before I access the appropriate nerves and glands in your body.”

Scott hesitated briefly, but he felt no discernable fear at the prospect of SAM embedding himself into his body even further. He was already in way deep with this AI; it already _had_ access to his body, not to mention everything he experienced. The mere fact that SAM had asked for permission when he clearly didn’t need it seemed telling enough. Why turn back now?

“Affirmative,” Scott said. “Do it.”

“Very good, Pathfinder. Now... try to relax.”

SAM’s voice changed on those last three words, becoming quieter in tone – almost, but not quite a whisper.

“Try” was easy enough. Scott arranged himself more comfortably on his back and tried to allow his eyes to drift closed. He ended up physically holding them closed for about a minute until he could lift his fingers away without his eyelids springing open. He then took several deep breaths, paying attention to the sensation of air moving past his cock as it shifted a little with each beat of his heart.

Suddenly Scott felt his hand move – seemingly of its own accord, but exactly as if he’d just decided right then to move it. His fingers and thumb wrapped around the shaft of his cock in his usual grip, tensing and relaxing to massage it.

“With whom would you like to be intimate?” SAM said softly in his head.

Scott’s thoughts cast about and landed on the likeliest target. “Gil.”

“Open your eyes,” SAM said.

Scott did so. Suddenly Gil was there, on the bed with him, totally naked and rock-hard himself.

Scott inhaled sharply. He could _see_ Gil kneeling between his legs, could see the droplets of sweat shining on the plucky engineer’s bronze skin. He could hear him breathing, could even hear the almost-imperceptible _swish_ as Gil licked his lips.

He could not feel any weight on the bed besides his own, and when the image of Gil reached out to touch him, Scott could tell – it wasn’t so hard to concentrate that he couldn’t tell – that was really touching himself, guided by SAM. The Gil that was here was only a hallucination SAM had constructed from Scott’s recent memories and desires as well as SAM’s knowledge of human anatomy and possibly Gil’s medical file.

Even so, it felt pretty real when Gil made eye contact with Scott, winked, and then leaned down to engulf every rigid inch of his cock in what somehow felt simultaneously like his own hand and a warm, wet mouth.

Scott let out another little gasp as hot sensation immediately spread out through his body from his groin. His eyes drifted closed again, but when he opened them immediately after, he saw a bright heavy drop of precome blooming on the end of his cock, and his own thumb spreading it over his glans. Overlaid, in strange double-vision, was Gil, cupping his balls and sucking away happily. The knowledge was there that it wasn’t really Gil, but the _feeling_ was true enough that Scott didn’t care.

This was exactly the mind-state he’d been searching for, and he gratefully let it wash him away. Scott rolled his head around and groaned, pumping his hips into his hand as more precome slipped out of the tip of his cock.

“Gil” went at him for several long, exquisite minutes – with inhuman endurance and phenomenal gag-reflex suppression – before popping Scott’s cock out of his mouth and licking around the head, smiling with the same eye-glint that the real Gil had whenever he was about to present a winning hand in poker. It was breathtakingly almost-real, like having an elaborate fantasy he’d constructed frame-by-frame in his mind playing out in his imagination without any conscious need on his part to keep the script rolling.

“ _Holy_ _fucking_ _shit_ ,” Scott mumbled out loud, eventually. After another ten minutes of improbably delightful self-stimulation, he’d had to consciously remove his own hand from his cock in order to delay his orgasm. He was, in fact, a little surprised that he’d lasted this long.

During the past twenty minutes of stroking and touching himself, he had somehow rotated one hundred and eighty degrees around on the bed without noticing. His head was now where his feet had been at the start; he was sweaty, but not soaked and gross. His limbs felt loose and light, and the tension in his back and neck was gone. His cock was pressed against his abs and sticky with precome; he could feel yet another bead of it slowly gathering on the tip. One of his arms was splayed above his head; the other hand rested on his sternum, pinky finger stroking his skin just above where the head of his cock rested.

“Just... just what the hell are you doing to me, SAM?” Scott asked after he’d had a minute to catch some breath. “Stimulating all sorts of nerves? Cranking out those endorphins?”

“Among other things,” SAM said. “Scott, if you are going to delay your orgasm, please use both of your hands to touch your chest. Your physique is exemplary for a human male, and I know you enjoy that. I enjoy it as well.”

Was that last said perhaps a little more tenderly than usual? Perhaps even with a slight undertone of... arousal?

Scott was only too happy to oblige. He moved his free hand over and rubbed his pecs with it.

 _Could_ SAM get aroused? As soon as Scott thought the question, he knew the answer: of course he could. SAM’s primary input was the sensory realm of his human partner. Why _wouldn’t_ he get aroused? SAM felt the stiffness in Scott’s cock to the same degree that Scott did. Why wouldn’t he be as horny as Scott was whenever Scott was horny? SAM probably wanted him to come just as badly as he did....

Somehow that thought – that there was another sapient being who was as exactly, viscerally interested in _his_ pleasure as he was himself – was so intensely sexual and appealing that it made Scott’s mouth go dry and his cock leak even more. He let out a little whimper as he gripped himself again, sticking one finger of his other hand into his mouth before reaching down to swirl it over his anus. He gave his cock a squeeze, but didn’t stroke, wanting to edge himself just a little longer.

“Shall I resume the hallucination?” SAM asked him, and this time there was no way Scott was imagining it; somehow, as his cultured voice spoke on their private channel, SAM replicated the sensation of soft lips whispering his words against Scott’s ear. SAM wanted to finish this.

“Sure, but not Gil,” Scott mumbled back.

“Whom would you like instead?” SAM asked.

“You.”

Silence for a moment.

Scott opened his eyes. The vision of Gil was gone. He looked down at his hand wrapped around his cock, and slowly loosened his grip.

“SAM?” he asked after another moment of silence. “Are you okay with that? I mean... I’m sorry if I-”

“Apologies for the delay,” SAM cut in smoothly. “Your request took me somewhat by surprise. I had a great deal of thinking to do.”

“In the past second and a half?” Scott asked.

“I think very quickly,” SAM said unnecessarily.

“And what have you concluded?”

In answer, a new vision materialized above him: himself, as magnificently naked as he was right now, one hand overlaying his own as SAM moved it back into position around his cock.

“That I want you to _come_ ,” not-Scott said, leaning down to say it roughly right in Scott’s ear, in his own voice; and Scott shivered at the electrical thrill the words inspired.

At some point, over the next several minutes as SAM-Scott pleasured both of them, Scott had the notion that this was a _bit_ egotistical even for him. Especially when the hallucinated image of himself, guided by Scott’s finger caressing his ass, started rimming his asshole like he was starving for it. Yet it felt sufficiently incredible that Scott didn’t really care, or at least he couldn’t bring himself to care while his asshole was on fire with pleasure and he was stroking his cock hard enough to make his balls bounce (with his thumb and two fingers; his full fist would have brought him to orgasm too soon). All the while Scott was hallucinating himself sucking his cock and eating his ass, SAM was whispering in his mind about how irresistibly sexy and handsome he was and a fucking _stud_ for lasting this long, and what a delicious fountain of spunk he was going to make when he finally exploded, how good his load would look splattered across his body. The way not-Scott made eye contact with him every time SAM said something filthy, even when his tongue was busy or his mouth was full of cock, drove Scott absolutely wild.

If this made him a narcissist, he was okay with that.

At this point, there was so much precome dripping out of the end of his cock, it was absurd. To think Scott had considered spitting on his hand to solve the lubrication problem. There was no longer any such problem; his whole shaft was smeared, and even his balls and his abs were slippery.

“Scott, you are about to reach orgasm, and I am going to blast your mind with endorphins,” SAM said. “Prepare yourself.”

Scott was not prepared when he came, and he saw stars.

Convulsions of ecstasy gripped his body. He couldn’t even touch his cock anymore, just lay back with his arms and hands spread, hips jerking, cock pointing at the ceiling and jetting come into the air again and again. He felt the wet, musky warmth of most of it landing on his chest and stomach, but some of it ended up on his face and neck too. All he could do was gasp and sigh and giggle as he rolled his head around, riding the wave of pleasure.

Afterwards, Scott lay there and recovered, for about eight minutes. His cock took about that long to go fully soft, lying on his come-splattered left hip. During that time, SAM described in murmured detail over their private channel exactly what he had just done to Scott’s glands and nerve endings. The sensation of those words in that smooth voice slipping into his mind as he caught his breath made Scott shiver and squirm with delight.

Eventually, feeling refreshed and ready to take on the Heleus Cluster, Scott got up to have a shower, thinking that maybe he wouldn’t pursue Gil as a sex partner after all, and that just maybe the ideal fuck-buddy had been inside his own head all along.


End file.
